


when you dream will you dream of me

by Neyiea



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Consensual Somnophilia, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-11 03:05:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10453557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neyiea/pseuds/Neyiea
Summary: Sportacus looks peaceful; his chest rising and falling steadily, all his muscles relaxed. All the tension he carries with him has unwound and it’s beautiful, in a way, to see him like this.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *throws confetti*  
> I have now written 30 works for this fandom. Wow.  
> Anyways, the first chapter is just fluff, next chapter will be where we actually earn that 'M' rating.

It’s hard to find a happy medium sometimes. Sportacus is just so active, so full of a natural inclination to move and make himself useful, and Robbie is very much the sort of person who’d rather enjoy a tranquil moment by being still.

The times they spend together—Robbie is hesitant to call them dates because he’s not entirely certain the word suits the occasions—end up being less like meeting in the middle and more like them doing their own thing, only right next to each other. He fretfully thinks in the beginning that maybe it’s a sign that they’re both too set in their ways to mesh well together, and perhaps the notion of opposites attract doesn’t really work out in real life the same way it works with magnets. 

Then it happens.

He invites Sportacus down for some tea; herbal, caffeine-free stuff that he himself would never be able to drink without a grimace. Somehow one cup turns to two, and then Sportacus perches himself on the arm of Robbie’s chair to do sets of air bike crunches and knee taps while Robbie himself is comfortably seated. They talk, just about simple things, and it’s calm enough that Robbie feels himself relaxing further into his chair as time crawls by.

Then Sportacus happens to glance over at Robbie’s clock

“Oh,” he says, sounding suddenly tired. “Is it that late already?”

“Late? It’s hardly past—oh.” 

Sportacus has never stayed down with Robbie this far into the evening before. He always leaves just before eight so that he can get back to his airship for his self-enforced curfew.

Sportacus yawns, his legs slowly coming to a stop.

“Robbie?”

“… Yes?”

“Goodnight.”

Robbie doesn’t even have time to choke out a question before Sportacus is slumping onto him, completely lax.

He makes a few unintelligible noises at first, hands fluttering about as he tries to figure out what he is meant to do in this situation.

Sportacus had said ‘goodnight’, not anything that could be useful in this situation such as ‘take me home, please’ or ‘in five seconds I’m going to be knocked out so don’t be alarmed’. Robbie slips out from where he’s partially underneath the elf so that he can push Sportacus into the center of the chair, so that he’s not lying with his legs hanging right off and his body slumped in a way that’s sure to cause discomfort in the morning.

He huffs at the exertion, and when he’s done he takes a few steps back to look over his handiwork and finds himself at a loss for words.

Sportacus looks peaceful; his chest rising and falling steadily, all his muscles relaxed. All the tension he carries with him has unwound and it’s beautiful, in a way, to see him like this.

“You should have told me what to do,” Robbie chides, though it’s more to have something to say than out of any true displeasure. “How is it even possible for someone to get to sleep so quickly? It just hits eight oh eight and then you’re out like a light?”

Sportacus doesn’t answer, and Robbie finds himself drawn closer, pulled towards the calm stillness in the same way that he is pulled towards things that give him comfort.

He has not had many partners in his life but sitting close with them, being still with them, doing nothing at all except for inhabiting the same space, has been something he’s always enjoyed. He likes when someone feels comfortable enough to relax around him, and to see Sportacus like this is almost unreal. 

He takes one step closer, then another, and then he’s standing before Sportacus, quietly taking in his sleeping features.

“You—you don’t toss and turn like I expected you would,” he finds himself saying, and when Sportacus doesn’t stir he adds, softer, “I really like you.”

He’s not sure how deep of a sleeper Sportacus is, but he would feel guilty if he moved on to working on a project and accidentally woke him. Sportacus is always rushing around from Point A to Point B, he deserves all the rest he can get and Robbie suddenly cannot bear the thought of interrupting it.

He doesn’t slip next to Sportacus in the chair, though the temptation to do so is difficult to resist. He grabs two blankets, lays one over Sportacus, and curls the other around his shoulders. He reaches out to lay one hand over Sportacus’s, throat feeling oddly tight with an emotion he can’t be bothered to name.

“Goodnight,” he says, and then he lays himself out on the rug, staring at the dark shadows that engulf his ceiling. 

He’s slept in worse conditions, on harder surfaces. He’ll fall asleep eventually. Hopefully.

In the morning he wakes up to a hand on his shoulder.

“Oh Robbie,” Sportacus whispers when Robbie blearily cracks his eyes open. “You could have stayed beside me.”

Robbie thinks he may attempt to say something in return, but his exhaustion drags him back under and the next time he wakes up it’s hours later, Sportacus is nowhere to be seen, and he’s curled up in his armchair like he usually is.

He takes a moment to think about Sportacus’s sleeping face, the serene slope of his brow and the gentle parting of his lips, and wonders if he’ll be able to see Sportacus like that again.

Not even a week later, he does.

It’s much like it was the first time, with Sportacus sitting atop the arm of the chair while his legs move restlessly with a cup of half-drunk tea cradled in his hands. When it hits eight he sets the tea down on the table, and Robbie expects him to say his goodbyes.

“May I stay with you tonight?” Is what he says instead and Robbie’s surprise must be glaringly obvious on his face because he backpedals almost immediately. “I can leave though, of course, if you want me to go.”

“You—you can stay.” Robbie manages to get out before Sportacus has a chance to move back. “Just… I don’t want to wake you, or bother you, or do something wrong.”

Sportacus slips into the seat next to him, his thigh and hip settling firmly alongside Robbie’s, his eyes going half shut as he muffles a yawn with his hand.

“I’m a pretty deep sleeper, as long as you’re not watching infomercials at a deafening volume I doubt any noise would wake me.”

“What about touch?” Robbie asks, and immediately flushes at how it sounds. “I mean can I—can I hold you? It’s nice to be close.”

“Of course you can. It’s nice to be held.” Sportacus lays his head upon Robbie’s shoulder and sighs pleasantly, relaxing even further when Robbie grabs the blanket he had smartly folded right next to the chair and lays it out over their laps. 

“Goodnight, Robbie.”

And then he goes still.

Robbie turns towards him, wrapping an arm around Sportacus and pulling him closer so that his head is pillowed against Robbie’s chest.

“Sportacus?”

There’s no answer.

“I really, really like you,” he says, and it feels good to say it. To get it off of his chest even though Sportacus can’t answer back right now.

Maybe, if he tells Sportacus enough when he’s asleep, he’ll finally reach a point where he can tell him when he’s awake.

Like a practice run of sorts. So that he can learn to say the words without tripping up.

He doesn’t fall asleep for a long while, but the soft puff of Sportacus’s breath against him and the warmth of his body eases Robbie into a pleasant state of restfulness. 

It becomes a routine. 

Sportacus comes over in the evenings and falls asleep in Robbie’s arms. Robbie holds him close and whispers things he doesn’t quite feel comfortable saying during Sportacus’s wakeful hours, though he thinks he might be getting closer.

There are affectionate touches, too, that Robbie can’t quite imagine himself engaging in were his partner awake. He traces the contours of Sportacus’s face with his knuckles, interlocks their fingers together, and even on occasion presses a kiss to his brow. Never anything serious, or something he is absolutely certain Sportacus would object to.

Little things. Little things that he would like to do when Sportacus was awake as well, if only he had the courage for it.

They eventually creep, subtly, into their shared waking hours. A brush of a shoulder here, a half-embrace there, and Sportacus seems delighted by it every time, having no idea that Robbie’s done this all before.

He wonders how Sportacus would feel about it if he knew.

The thought makes his stomach churn.

He still can’t bring himself to go very far. Sometimes he contemplates what it would be like to press a kiss to Sportacus’s soft mouth, but when he thinks about it how vulnerable Sportacus is, how much trust he must have in Robbie to sleep beside him, how much he lets his guard down so that Robbie can have this time with him, it feels like a line is being crossed and so he resolutely doesn’t attempt anything more than what he has been doing. 

Then one early morning he messes up.

He cannot sleep and his mind whirls in a never-ending thought process about schemes and inventions that leaves him restless and irate. Earlier in the night he tries to stay still beside Sportacus. But his mind is awake, and so he is awake, and he doesn’t think his thoughts will settle until his hands are at work.

The entire night and into the early morning he is cutting wires and welding metal, until the noise of his project drowns out the noise in his head enough that he can start to feel how exhausted he actually is. 

When he settles down beside his sleeping partner he runs a hand through Sportacus’s soft hair, enjoying the texture of his faint curls.

“I really love that I get to see you like this. I love that you let your defences down around me, even though I’m not quite there yet.” He sighs, leans in to lightly touch their forehead together. “I love you.” 

“Robbie.”

He flings himself back, nearly falling over the arm of the chair in his haste to get away, but Sportacus reaches out to grab onto his wrists before he can fall and he tugs Robbie close again.

“You were awake, I—How long were you awake?”

“Long enough.” Sportacus cups Robbie’s face in his hands, gently coaxing him to meet his eyes. “I woke up to you combing my hair with your fingers, and it was nice, so I thought I would keep my eyes closed a little longer. Then you started talking to me.” Sportacus smiles, and the corners of his eyes crinkle in a way that is disarming. “And you told me you love me.”

Robbie’s face burns, but he can’t deny it.

“I love you too.”

Robbie ducks his head into the crook of Sportacus’s neck, and Sportacus languidly wraps his arms around Robbie’s shoulders.

“Do you do this often? Talk to me and touch me while I’m sleeping?”

“Yes,” he admits, voice muffled. “It’s nice, to tell you things that I don’t think I can say when you can hear me yet, and to see you relax further when I touch you. You sigh in your sleep sometimes and it sounds happy, and it makes me happy. Would you like me to stop?”

“Stop?” Sportacus holds him tighter. “No, it’s alright. You’ve been taking care of me while I was sleeping, it’s sweet.”

“Well, if you say so.” He’s not really certain that what’s he’s been doing could constitute as ‘taking care of’, but the thought that he has been looking after Sportacus in some small way does make him feel warm and fluttery.

“I have to get up now. I hope you’re able to get some rest.” Sportacus presses a kiss to Robbie’s forehead. “I’ll see you this afternoon? If not, this evening for sure.” He steps out of the chair and tucks the blanket around Robbie with a content smile.

“I’ll ask the kids if they can play quietly today.”

Robbie curls up under the blanket and tries not to feel flustered by the rapid beating of his own heart.

He tosses and turns on his own for a while before making a call fuelled by a frustrating lack of sleep as well as the knowledge that Sportacus _knows_ but will still be coming back tonight.

If Sportacus is terribly surprised when he comes down in the evening and finds that Robbie now has a bed in a curtained off section of his lair he hides it rather well.

He doesn’t hide his concern about the dark circles underneath Robbie’s eyes, though. He takes Robbie straight to bed and wraps around him closely even though he still has more than an hour until the clock strikes eight.

“This isn’t your routine. Is it okay for you to break out of your routine?”

“It’s okay to have little changes, every once in a while.”

“Will you be okay, though, not moving around?”

Sportacus hums in what sounds like agreement, but that isn’t the direct answer that Robbie needs to hear.

“Will you or won’t you?”

“I may be a little fidgety,” Sportacus finally admits, “but I should be alright.”

It’s nice, cuddling when they’re both awake, talking in low voices and occasionally brushing their lips against a cheek or a brow. Soon enough Robbie can feel as Sportacus goes completely limp, and he himself is close enough to drifting off that he only has enough time to tiredly wonder once again what it would be like to kiss Sportacus’s lax mouth before he too falls asleep.

The routine doesn’t change, but Sportacus knowing adds a new element to it.

In fact Robbie might even go so far as to say that Sportacus knowing makes it infinitely better. He isn’t hit by insomnia every night, but when he is there is something astoundingly sweet and warm in Sportacus’s smile when he awakens to find Robbie paying special attention to him. And to have him linger in bed even just a few moments past his usual rising time is something that Robbie feels oddly proud of.

“Someday I’ll have you relaxed enough that you stay asleep and lay in bed a whole extra hour,” Robbie murmurs to him as Sportacus presses a kiss to his chin.

Sportacus laughs. “Maybe you will. I won’t dissuade you from trying.” He links their hands together and presses a kiss to Robbie’s knuckles. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course Robbie. Ask me anything.” 

“Why do you like that I pay so much attention to you in your sleep?” He had thought that after a while the charm of it might wear off and Sportacus would be more eager for displays of affection while he was awake as opposed to encouraging it while he was asleep. Not that Robbie isn’t delighted that Sportacus seems to like the idea of it as much as he does, but he’s curious as to why.

“I like that there’s someone who cares about me when I’m sleeping, not just when I’m running around being a hero.”

Robbie sputters for a bit, because surely Sportacus doesn’t believe that the children in town only care about him when he’s saving their skin or rescuing kittens from trees.

“And I like that there’s someone who I can be vulnerable around.” Sportacus presses another kiss to Robbie’s knuckles before slipping out of bed and straightening out the bed sheets until they’re laid out over Robbie picturesquely. 

Words get caught in Robbie’s throat, but Sportacus smiles down at him like Robbie’s lack of response isn’t entirely surprising.

“Try and get some rest.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels as though it's been an eternity since I wrote part one but finally, finally this is complete. All I can hope for now is that my 2 AM editing skills were up to snuff, haha. Enjoy!

There are nights when he is restless and no amount of cuddling will make him any less restless, but even though he exiles himself from bed in order to work he keeps more careful track of the passage of time now, and will slip back underneath the covers before Sportacus is awake. Robbie will skim one hand into Sportacus’s hair and touch their foreheads together, and he’ll pepper kisses across the bridge of Sportacus’s nose and along his cheeks, at the corners of his eyes and upon his brow.

And Sportacus will eventually wake up to the kisses, and he’ll smile and sigh and pull Robbie in closer. Robbie still hasn’t reached a point where he’s induced Sportacus to laze around for any more than fifteen minutes after waking, but he decides to take that as a personal challenge.

This morning in particular is passing along in a splendid show of leisure, Robbie on the verge of falling asleep and Sportacus on the verge of full wakefulness, the both of them spending the transitional phase between to curl into one another and share their breath as easily as they trade languid kisses.

Sportacus makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat and Robbie smiles sleepily at the sound of it. He relaxes further against his pillows as Sportacus props himself up on one arm and takes hold of one of Robbie’s hands.

“Robbie.” Sportacus presses a kiss to his knuckles, and Robbie fights to keep his eyes open. “Do you ever want to do more?”

“More?” He tiredly parrots, and Sportacus intertwines their fingers together, his smile turning into something more bashful than Robbie is used to seeing.

“More with me, while I’m asleep. It’s alright if you do, you can tell me.”

Ideas flash through Robbie’s head, almost too fast for him to really process, and he’s startled enough that he pushes himself up into a seated position. He looks down at Sportacus feeling nervous and charmed all at once, and he finds he can’t quite handle looking him in the eye so his gaze drifts down to their hands.

“I—” he starts but cannot think of what to say. His mouth his dry and his mind is racing and he can feel the blood rushing in his ears as his face goes hot, “I—I don’t—”

Sportacus wraps his arms around him and guides him back to his pillows, a hand running through Robbie’s hair soothingly. 

“It’s okay, Robbie,” Sportacus murmurs to him, voice soft and reassuring in a way that somehow exceeds any and all of Robbie’s comfort items. He hums under his breath, and even as tone deaf and incapable of carrying a tune as the elf is Robbie can feel himself easing at the sound of it all the same. 

“It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But just know that if the idea ever does come to mind—” Sportacus’s cheeks gain a slight pink tinge, and Robbie is absolutely transfixed by the sight of it. “I trust you.”

It seems a bit late, now, to ask Sportacus why he trusts him. He expects the answer would only make him feel more flustered, too.

And Sportacus seems content to let the subject drop, spending just a few more minutes making sure Robbie is relaxed before slipping out of bed and bidding him a soft goodbye.

Robbie buries his head under a pillow and tries, and fails, not to think about it.

Could fleeting touches cross over into a dreamscape? If he touched and kissed Sportacus more as he was sleeping, would some part of him realize? Would Robbie materialize in his mind’s eye, incorporating himself in Sportacus’s own dreams, as a way for his mind to explain the physical sensations that he was experiencing while he dozed?

Conceptually speaking there’s something very satisfying in the idea of making Sportacus dream of him. To be on his mind not only in his waking moments, but also as he’s sleeping.

To hear his name pass through Sportacus’s lips while he’s asleep, surely that would be the very essence of bliss.

The thought of it makes his cheeks go hot again and he smothers the pillow harder against his face, as if to transfer the excess heat of his body into the cool of the fabric. 

It doesn’t work very well.

“Don’t think about it, don’t think about it,” he chides himself as he tosses the pillow away, rolling over to lay on Sportacus’s side of the bed on his stomach and getting tangled up in the bed sheets.

Sportacus’s pillow smells vaguely sweet and earthy, so much like the elf himself that if Robbie closed his eyes he could almost believe that Sportacus was still in bed with him. The blankets, tangled so tightly around him, could almost be mistaken for an embrace. Robbie can feel his eyelids becoming heavier with each breath he takes until finally he drifts off.

They don’t speak about it again, Robbie because he’s not sure he’d actually be able to verbalize his thoughts clearly and without becoming an outright mess, Sportacus because he’s almost too sweet and thoughtful to actually exist. But Robbie thinks about it far more often than he would ever admit to, and he’s certain that Sportacus thinks about it too, even if he’s good at hiding it.

He occasionally finds himself on the verge of starting something, hands creeping along the skin of Sportacus’s back, or just barely dipping below the waistband of his pyjama pants, but he feels hesitant at going any further and ends up nudging his head under Sportacus’s chin and wrapping his arms around himself.

Initiating kisses is one thing but instigating more, tempting though it may be, is somehow one of the most difficult conundrums he’s ever faced.

Robbie sighs against Sportacus’s collarbone and unfolds his arms from around himself in order to drape one over the elf’s waist. 

“This would have been a lot easier if you’d been more specific about what you want,” he grumbles, “although I suppose if I want further clarification all I have to do is ask.” He purses his lips together and tries to imagine what starting that conversation would be like.

Being able to see Sportacus blush again might actually make it worth his while.

“Tomorrow,” he decides firmly, “we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

That settled he rests his head against Sportacus’s chest and stretches out his legs, muscles briefly flexing as he points his toes before relaxing.

He wakes up hours later feeling content and well rested, and he takes his time in making and eating breakfast before deciding to make his way into town.

It is, perhaps, not a complete coincidence that he happens to sit on a bench right across from the sports field to enjoy the sun. Whenever Sportacus catches sight of him and smiles he smiles back and waves, which generally prompts the children to giggle behind their hands or send knowing glances in Sportacus’s direction before they continue on with playing as usual.

Of course being this close to so much activity, though the children do make a considerable effort to be a bit quieter these days, reminds him of the days where he was actively trying to drive Sportacus out of town and coerce the townsfolk into being lazy. While he’s very happy with how things are now he can’t help but remember all of the schemes that he’d drafted, the inventions that he’d created, the thrill of producing something that the world had never seen before. It makes him somewhat nostalgic.

He can’t shake the feeling later on in the evening and so it is with very little consideration that after kissing Sportacus goodnight he forgoes slipping into bed with him, choosing instead to keep his hands busy and indulge in his own genius. 

However there is no satisfaction in his work tonight; the mechanisms under his hands do as they ought to but there’s no added spark, no zest or flare to make it stand out from his other works. His half-hearted creation seems to taunt him from its perch at his workstation, exposed wires spilling across the table and daring him to plug it in and flip the switch to see what a mechanical wonder created without a true purpose can do. 

He rubs a hand over his eyes, tired and frustrated and unsure if he should even bother continuing with a project that he has no true passion for.

Robbie sighs as his hand drops away, and he casts a glance over to the curtained off area that Sportacus is peacefully sleeping behind.

The thought of his partner’s calm breaths and softly closed eyes is enough for some of Robbie’s irritation to be swept away and it only takes half of a second for him to decide that even if sleep is bound to continue eluding him his time would be better spent in bed than out here.

He is not going to be productive either way, so he may as well luxuriate in his unproductivity as opposed to feeling guilty about it and becoming distressed.

Robbie slips into his pyjamas before ducking through the curtain and then he perches at the side of the bed, a hand reaching out to thread through Sportacus’s hair. Robbie bites his lip, considering, and then strokes his thumb lightly up the pointed cartilage of Sportacus’s ear.

Sportacus huffs. It’s a small, pleased sound that makes Robbie smile and he brings his legs up on the bed so that he can sit a bit closer, touch a bit more.

Perhaps genius will strike him tonight in an altogether different way. 

His eyes are not yet accustomed to the darkness enough to make out details, but he’s  
long since familiarized himself with every patch of skin, every eyelash, every faint freckle. He could trace the contours of Sportacus’s face in complete darkness and nothing; not the ridge of his nose, the shape of his lips, or the creases at the corners of his eyes, would be a surprise to him.

His eyes slowly grow used to the shadows, and something about seeing his hand tracing Sportacus’s features is making something burn inside of him. 

Sportacus likes that he can be vulnerable around him.

Sportacus said that he trusted him.

Robbie leans closer, heart beating a quick rhythm in his chest, and he presses his lips to Sportacus’s slack mouth.

It would be a shame to wake him up. At least one of them ought to be getting some sleep.

But then again, just how much could Robbie do to him while he stayed sleeping?

Heat floods into his cheeks as he contemplates what to do. 

One more kiss couldn’t hurt.

He leans in again and might have put an end to it there were it not for the pleased sigh Sportacus exhales against his mouth before rolling a little closer.

Robbie keeps the kiss gentle and soft, not interested in the idea of waking Sportacus now, so soon, before he’s even had a chance to do anything. His hands, however, are hard at work already, undoing the buttons of Sportacus’s sleep shirt and skimming upwards along Sportacus’s abdomen and chest. He ducks his head down to press a kiss to Sportacus’s sternum, and then his nails lightly track down to the waistband of his pyjamas pants.

Sportacus’s skin is pleasantly warm and soft, and he makes another happy little sound when Robbie traces small circles against his hipbone with his fingertips before dipping lower, grazing across soft fabric.

He keeps his eyes locked on Sportacus’s face, carefully watching the flutter of his eyelashes for any sign that he might be waking up, and he presses his palm between Sportacus’s legs.

Sportacus mumbles something, shifts ever so slightly, and Robbie watches with baited breath as he settles back down afterwards, breathing still even, eyes still shut.

He pushes against Sportacus a little harder and presses a kiss just below his bellybutton.

Is he really still asleep? Or is he just pretending to be?

Does Robbie even actually care right now?

He huffs out a breath against Sportacus’s hipbone, his palm continuing a light rocking motion. He idly grinds his own hips against the mattress as he feels Sportacus become harder against him, and he looks back up at his face.

Brow pleasantly furrowed, slack mouth opening to let out a content sigh. He shifts his hips a little, softly bucking into Robbie’s hand, but through it all his eyes stay shut.

“You’re so beautiful like this.”

Robbie trails his lips across Sportacus’s lower abdomen and hips, briefly pulling his hand away in order to tug his pyjama pants down.

He hooks his fingers into the fabric just as Sportacus makes a displeased sound and Robbie bites back a laugh as he pulls at the hem.

“There we are,” he breathes as Sportacus is bared to him, and he reaches out to run his fingers through the curls at the base, his palm ghosting against the warm skin below.

Sportacus spreads his legs slightly, the movement hindered somewhat by the pants that are still half on, but Robbie isn’t keen on the idea of wasting more time trying to slip the pyjamas off completely while being gentle enough to keep Sportacus from waking. 

He brings his hand up to his mouth, licks from the base of his palm to the tips of his fingers, and watches Sportacus’s face avidly as he reaches down again, finally skin to skin.

Sportacus’s eyes flicker with movement from behind his eyelids and he rocks into Robbie’s grip, fingers curling into the blankets on either side of him. He is always lovely when he is sleeping but the colour rising up on his cheeks, the parting of his mouth, and the shadows of his eyelashes against his cheeks paint a picture that is almost too stunning to describe.

He is vulnerable, like this. And he trusts Robbie to take care of him, like this.

“You have bewitched me, and I don’t even think you’re entirely aware of it. How like you,” he says fondly. 

Sportacus’s breath hitches, and Robbie revels in the sound of it.

“I wonder how long I can keep you like this, with enough stimulation to feel pleasure but not enough to wake up. I wonder how much I can do to you before you open your eyes and see me taking such good care of you. I wonder, are you dreaming of me?”

His voice starts as a whisper but eventually reaches its regular volume. His hand moves faster, spreading the wetness of the tip down the shaft and back up again. Little whimpers and moans begin to fall from Sportacus’s lips and Robbie delights in them, in being the cause for each one. 

He shifts, leans up, and presses a kiss to Sportacus’s lips. Sportacus shudders beneath him, goes still, then taut.

Then his arms come up around Robbie’s neck and he starts to kiss back. His fingers dig into Robbie’s shoulder blades and he pants against Robbie’s mouth, and Robbie can’t be sure about the passage of time anymore when his entire being is so fixated on his partner; in the sharp inhales and wet kisses and the flex of his hips.

“Robbie,” Sportacus’s voice cracks and every muscle in his body winds up tightly.

“I’m here, here with you. You’re so gorgeous,” Robbie murmurs against Sportacus’s mouth as he tenses, back arching and legs widening, heels digging into the bed before he shakily goes slack.

Robbie kisses him again and again until Sportacus has caught his breath enough to kiss back, and then he feels a calloused hand dip inside of his own pants and he buries his head into the crook of Sportacus’s neck to muffle his own cries. It’s almost too much, overwhelming in a way he’s never experienced before. Heat builds up inside of him and he feels as though he is tearing apart at the seams from it, but he is dimly aware of Sportacus’s voice and though he can’t understand the words the loving tone is enough for him to allow himself to fall apart before him.

Because he trusts Sportacus just as much as Sportacus trusts him.

Sportacus presses a kiss to his temple in the aftermath, cooing something in a language Robbie isn’t entirely certain he’s ever heard before as he pulls the blankets back around them. Robbie kicks his pyjamas pants off over the side of the bed and Sportacus laughs under his breath as he does the same, even shrugging out of his sleep shirt before settling back down beside Robbie, eyes half shut and smile so bright Robbie almost can’t look at it.

“Was that alright? Was it what you wanted?” A smile pulls at his own lips. “Any ideas to improve the next time?”

“It was wonderful, you were wonderful.”

Sportacus wraps around him, warm and slack and obviously sated. Robbie feels a burst of pride, though it is far outclassed by the warm and radiant adoration that fills his being. He moves closer in order to pillow his head against Sportacus’s chest, the faint sound of his heartbeat as soothing as a lullaby. 

Sleep finds them both quickly, and in the morning it is Robbie who is awoken by multiple kisses laid softly across his face.

“Good morning,” Sportacus greets as he folds their hands together and presses his lips to the backs of Robbie’s hands, “I love you.”

Robbie grins and pulls Sportacus back down for another kiss.


End file.
